The following excerpt is from his unpublished firsthand account in Memoirs of a UFO Hunter:
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“I’ve been to the top of the mountain!” Randy exclaimed after bursting through the front door, rudely disturbing our tabletop gaming session and startling Calvin enough to spill his soda on the freshly painted space marine miniatures.
“Jesus, dude, what the hell’s gotten into you? Where’ve you been?” Calvin asked while trying to frantically clean up and save the miniatures.
“I did it! I did it! I was right! I even had my doubts! I thought I couldn’t do it, but I did it!” Randy said jumping and running around as if he just finished eating 20 pounds of sugar cookies dusted with coke and meth.
We had to stop our game and corral Randy to the couch, where we had him sit and calm down. We got him some weed, a glass of water, and told him to tell us what happened.
He was right; The leaked photos and satellite images of the alien crash site did overlap with old maps of underground cave systems, and one of these systems were connected to a closed off section of Franklin’s underground sewer tunnels. What’s crazier is that he did do it. He waited for night to come to trespass into the old factory to enter the sewers, broke through the sewer’s sealed section to access the caves, followed the cave map to one of the spacecraft’s rockets that sunk into the cave, climbed through some type of detached hosing to gain access to the ship, and met aliens. All by himself.
“Bullshit!” said Mike as he paced back and forth.
“Come on, Mike,” said Randy. “Why would I lie about this? You know me, and this ain’t something that I would ever lie about! I swear on my nanna’s grave! Right, Bruno?”
Randy looked at me to back him up. I get pulled into so many arguments as the group’s de facto stenographer. I regret having exceptional memory.
“He’s right, Mike,” I sighed. “This isn’t something Randy would lie about.”
“He certainly smells like he’s been through a sewer,” Darla said pinching her nose.
“Okay, then why did you go by yourself? Why didn’t you bring anybody along?” Mike asked.
“I kept asking you guys and none of you wanted to go with me,” Randy replied. “You all kept saying that I was going to get us all killed over a wild hunch, despite everything I showed you.”
Calvin quickly jumped up in a panic. “Randy, I just thought about this! How do we know you’re not contaminated?”
We all distanced ourselves from Randy.
“Come on guys,” said Randy defensively. “Seriously?”
“Randy, you went through a sewer and into an alien spaceship! How could you be so blasé to that when you were so concerned about COVID?”
“But I’m not coughing, dead, or melting, or anything. I’m fine.”
“Mother fucker, at least go use my shower and scrub yourself down with anti-bacterial soap or something!”
“Okay, okay!” Randy said as he hurried to the bathroom.
Throughout the time Randy washed himself, we washed our hands, then broke out the plastic gloves and KN95s, then we all sprayed the couch with copious disinfectant. Calvin took Randy’s dirty clothes and burned them on the charcoal grill in the backyard. Everyone kept six feet apart. After Randy came out of the shower, he had to wear Calvin’s clothing that – surprise, surprise –fit Calvin’s skinny 6’ 0” body, not Randy’s heavier 6’ 6” frame. The clothes made the man looked like Baby Huey battling depression.
“Here germy, have a mask and keep six feet away from everyone,” Darla said as she gave Randy a KN95.
“The six-foot rule is for COVID,” Randy said as he covered his mouth and nose with the mask and walked to a safe distance.
“It doesn’t matter, Randy,” Mike said still a bit agitated. “You went to meet aliens and came back, not only without any real protection, but without anyone from the club. Did you consider any of the risks before going on your self-assigned mission? If the environments you had to travel through didn’t cause you harm, the aliens could have. Directly or indirectly! If not them, then the factory’s rent-a-cop, or the actual cops called in to investigate… hell, military, CIA, Men in Black, and not the friendly ones from the movies either. You could’ve gotten us all thrown into some black site and never heard or seen from again! What the hell-”
“Fuck you, Mike.” Randy interrupted.
We were all caught off guard by this. He was never known to stick up for himself. This didn’t seem like the appropriate time to do so, but hey. Mike had to do a double take before asking incredulously, “What did you say?”
“Fuck you, Mike. And fuck the rest of you too. Yeah, I did do something stupid, but it was the same exact stupid idea we’ve all been talking about doing in our fantasy scenarios, long before the UFO crash. The opportunity finally came, smackdab near our one-horse town, and we decided not to do what we always dreamed of doing? Sure, I had no protection, but you know how long we’ve been saying that we would buy some good, encapsulated suits with oxygen tanks for an occasion like this, and never did? They’re here now, for an undetermined amount of time, and we’ve got nothing. And you know, it ain’t entirely our fault since protective gear is so damn unaffordable, as with everything else these days! We can’t do shit about it, and the ones that can, will only hoard all the alien knowledge and technology for themselves. This club was founded to stand out from the other UFO groups. We wanted to find answers from sapient beings beyond Earth, which would benefit mankind. Instead, somewhere down the line, we became just like all the others, satisfied with wallowing in pop culture and wild goose chases. Remember our club’s motto? ‘Search for crafts and extraterrestrials, with tenacity and courage.’ I’ve taken that to heart from the beginning, and I haven’t given up on it. We just can’t let the government, the military, or some spook organization have a monopoly over extraterrestrial contact. I saw the opportunity to steal fire from the gods and share it with everyone on the ground floor, and it would be nice if you could join me in spreading it around.”
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It was quiet for a few seconds before Darla said, “That was strangely beautiful.”
“Thanks, Darla.” Randy replied sounding slightly winded, no doubt from everything which occurred that evening catching up to him.
“That was nice and thank you for sharing how you actually felt.” Mike said calmly. “Now I know for sure that you have TOTALLY LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND!”
Mike and Randy started going at it. Darla seemed to want to be the voice of reason between the two, but Calvin tried to keep her out of it. That caused an argument between Calvin and Darla, which soon caused Mike and Randy to get on them both to mind their business. Before you knew it, we had what I like to call an ‘argument storm’ on our hands. You know, those arguments that continue to grow in intensity to the point of tearing apart the very fabric of relationships. Arguments that inevitably suck in those who don’t want to be in it, no matter how fast they try to run away. Knowing how I usually get pulled into arguments involving ordinary things, I knew that I was going to get ripped apart if they all look at me as their own cornerman. To prevent this escalation, I needed to act fast, so I asked a question I had earlier. I said, as loud as I could, “HEY!” They all stopped and looked at me.
“Before I die from some strange alien infection, or get kidnapped and locked up in Gitmo, can I at the very least know what the aliens look like?”
I then pointed at Randy and asked, “I believe that’s now your wheelhouse.”
The sheer confusion of my request killed the storm in its tracks. After a moment, Randy stammered a little before trying to answer my question.
“Well,” Randy started. “They’re big.”
“Yes, yes, we all figured that from some of the leaked images. What do they look like without the suits on? What about that?”
“Uhh, err,” Randy clears his throat before continuing. “They’re humanoid. They have four eyes with glowing pupils, that third eyelid some animals have, and no nose or ears but like, membranes covering where they’re supposed to be. They have no hair, anywhere, from what I could tell just looking at the exposed body parts. Oh, and they have smooth ghostly white skin, which has a translucent quality to them too. I think it might be due to their glowing skeleton inside? Like, you can see the skeleton but, but you can’t see the organs, because it seems like the organs are covered by bone plating. But, but the intensity of the glowing, and skin translucence for that matter, seems to depend on the sex?”
“Are you asking us?” Mike flippantly wondered. “You were the one who saw them.”
“I’m making an educated guess. Excuse me for not being completely sure on first contact, Mike!”
“How?” Darla asked abruptly to regain Randy’s focus back on the subject. “How did you figure the glowing depended on the sex of the aliens?”
“I was making my way through the inside of the ship, trying to find a way into one of the rooms, the ones I could discern as likely being the females had more opaque skin but you can still see the glowing skeleton underneath. Uh, but, but, not as well defined as what I assume are the males. You can really see theirs better, almost like looking at a blurry x-ray image. I got a nice look at two of the three I was talking with, since the third had this large multi-lensed mask on.”
“Where on the ship did you meet them again?” Calvin asked.
“On the ship’s bridge, where… oh shit. Oh shit! Shit! I forgot!
“What happened?” inquired Mike.
“They need our help!”
“What?” asked Darla, followed by Mike again asking, “What you mean?”
“The aliens! They need help repairing their ship!”
“Christ!” retorted Mike. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I was so excited about my success that I forgot I left to seek out help!”
“How? How are we able help?” asked Calvin before Randy turned to Darla.
“Darla does your cousin still work at that auto shop?” asked Randy.
Confused, Darla asks, “You need my cousin?”
“Yes! You think he’d be willing to come to inspect and see what needs to be done?”
“With fixing an alien spaceship?”
“Yeah!”
“What’s he going to do? Check their oil? He’s a car mechanic! There’s a vast difference!”
“You got any better ideas? This is a once-in-a-millennia opportunity! When something like this comes along, we can’t throw our hands up and say, ‘Oh well!’”
“Why not?” Calvin asked. “You’re a store clerk and part-time janitor, I was in marketing until a week ago, Darla was a delivery driver until recently, Mike’s a middle school teacher, and Bruno’s…” He turns to me and asks, “I’m sorry Bruno, what’s your job again?”
I replied, “Low-level desk jockey.”
Calvin turns back to Randy. “He has that!” He then quickly faces me and thanks me before turning back to face Randy again to continue.
“Nobody here has the expertise or the connections helpful to this situation!”
It was then, Mike hesitantly speaks up. “Actually, I might have some connections.”
Everyone looks at him stunned. “You do?” asked Calvin.
“I might.” Replied Mike. “They may still not want anything to do with nonmembers. Although, I’m confident if I tell them we personally contacted the crash site extraterrestrials-”
Calvin interrupts, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who are these people and how do you know them?”
After some hesitation, Mike replies, “I never told the club this…but, I’m a member of the Seekers of Nephiliham.”
More hesitant silence fills the room before Calvin asks, “The cult?”
“Yeah.”
“The one we all make fun of in this club for being completely ridiculous and having a stupid name?”
“Yeah.”
“The one with the compound just outside of town?”
“It’s not a compound, it’s a luxury ranch…and yeah, same one.”
“That one?”
“Yeah.”
Another moment of silence fills the room.
“Why did you join them? When?” questioned a very confused Calvin. “I thought we all agreed that they were a joke?”
“And they are!” Mike said almost defensively. “I don’t believe any of their stuff, it’s just…You and I both know a science class teacher’s salary isn’t cutting it! They have a very generous stipend program for its members, so a few years ago, I figured why not. I mean, milking a group flushed with cash when I needed it couldn’t hurt.”
“Wait a minute,” Randy interjected. “I thought they only accepted people like doctors, lawyers, university professors, and such.”
“Well, since the crashlanding, they received so many membership applications that they’re considering the idea of lowering the requirements of entry.”
“But you said you joined a few years ago.”
Mike looks away as he runs his hand slowly down from his balding head to the back of his neck. “Umm, yeah.”
“Mike, how did you get your membership?” Calvin queried with suspicion.
“Errmm, I kinda embellished my professional experiences.”
“In what way?”
“Uhh… I am amazed they haven’t found out that I don’t work with NASA.”
Our jaws dropped. Darla was the first to voice our shock, “You didn’t! NASA?”
“Jesus Christ, Mike!” Randy said with a little fear in his voice. “If they find out you lied, they’re going to brand you and bury you in a blue barrel filled with acid!”
“Hold up,” Mike said momentarily raising his hand in a halt gesture. “The acid barrel stuff are just rumors spread by the local community church groups. I should know. The worst they’ll do is kick me out of the cult and perhaps file a lawsuit against me. By the way, you of all people have no place warning me about taking risks, Randy. You finished making an unannounced visit to aliens earlier. I can handle these guys. It’s the risk for the betterment of mankind I’m willing to take. I’ve got this on my end.”
“You sure?” Darla asked.
“Positive.”
“All right,” said Calvin before raising his hand. “All in favor for Mike to request assistance from his fellow cult members, raise your hand.”
We all followed suit raising our hands in agreement.
“All right.” Calvin said with increasing glee in his voice. “Everyone, let’s continue making our mark on history!”
Calvin made his way to the center of the room with his hand stretched out in front of him, and the rest of us joined in doing the same, entwining our hands in a circle on top of one another. Calvin then asked, “Whose club?”
“AUER Club.” We all responded with rapidly increasing eagerness.
“Said, whose club?” He asked again louder.
“AUER Club!” We all responded louder.
“Whose club?”
“AUER Club!”
With one final yell, we threw our hands up from the circle with much gusto. If having a talk with extraterrestrials was the light that lit the fuse, that mini pep rally was the lit fuse hitting the gunpowder. There was no turning back now.